


Domesticated

by photonromance



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Feelings, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4458788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/photonromance/pseuds/photonromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harold wants to marry John, more than anything, but he's determined John deserves better. When he explains to John as much, things change. They change forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domesticated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strawberriesandtophats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/gifts).



> A prompt request on tumblr asking for Domestic Rinch/Cooking/Bear/insecure!Harold/worried!John. While I'm not terribly confident in this piece, it's fair I let you all have a go of it. Comments are most welcome.

Harold put on a record, a real vinyl record, and huffed when John whirled him around the kitchen. "You shouldn't put on dancing music if you didn't want to dance." John murmured against his temple before turning him under his arm.

Harold found himself laughing even as he tried to fuss. "You're incorrigible, Mister Reese." He huffed as was pinned to John's chest, "I've not been dancing in... Oh, many years."

"Perhaps I'll take you out then." John murmured, kissing his temple, "We'll spend an evening in a ballroom, champagne and bow ties. It will be very romantic." Harold laughed and rested his forehead against his chest.

Oh how he wished for something so simple as an evening out. But he knew it couldn't be. He knew John knew as well, that his offer was only kind teasing without the intention of following through. John knew his body couldn't handle that much standing, that much motion. Held tight to John's chest, Harold considered his plan. Their future. In his jacket pocket, there was a little box with a plain golden ring inside. He wanted to ask John to marry him. Wanted to ask John to spend the rest of their lives, however long that might be, with him. But could he be so selfish? A middle aged man, not strikingly handsome like John, not even able bodied. Did he have a right to ask John to be with him and him alone until the day they died?

"We should start getting dinner together if we want to eat before morning." Harold said after a while.

John let him go reluctantly, drawing him back to the pantry by the hand. "I suppose you're right." He admitted, "What should we make?"

"I would be interested in learning how to make your potato gnocchi." Harold said, ducking down a little peer into the pantry under John's arm.

"Easy enough."

Harold rolled up his sleeves and John tied an apron over his fine shirt. He folded the dough while John prepared a cream sauce to go over it. "Don't mash it." Harold muttered to himself, turning the dough over and adding a spoonful of flour over the top, "Fold, don't mash."

John leaned over from his pan to kiss his flour dusted temple. "You're doing just fine," He promised, "Roll it out into a snake and use the board scraper to cut it into half-inch pieces."

"Half-inch pieces." Harold repeated, rolling out a dough snake.

John adored his rambling. He only did it when he was dealing with something unfamiliar, like cooking. (Essentially only when cooking, it was the only thing he'd ever seen Harold unsure at.)

In the end, Harold handled sautéing the gnocchi himself and John ladled the cream sauce over top once they were plated. Served with steamed asparagus and a white wine Harold chose on their way to the safe house, they had a proper dinner at the table together. It wasn't even the most romantic thing they'd done together, but it was something Harold knew he would never forget as long as he lived.

John cut the top off of a spear of asparagus, honestly the best part, and offered it to Harold on his fork. "Tell me what you think." He insisted.

Harold had a perfectly good plate of greens in front of him but John was offering his own food. He took the bite and sighed happily. "No one should get that kind of flavor out of a microwave, John." He said, scooping up a dumpling, "Now you tell me."

John laughed at his little sound of pleasure. "Good food doesn't have to be fussy." He teased, taking the offered bite himself. He chewed a bit and Harold held his breath. John grinned and he found himself smiling as well. "They're perfect!" John scooped up another dumpling, from his own plate this time, and savored it as well. "Nice and light," He noted, "Perfectly soft, not falling apart. We'll make a home cook of you yet, Harold!" Harold told himself his blush was from the wine they'd tasted while cooking and not because the thought of being John's home cook made him giddy.

They talked over dinner, nothing personal, of course. Mostly about Bear (currently snoring in his bed, he was worn out from a trip to the park), and their recent Number. It was their silent agreement to avoid personal subjects that bothered Harold most tonight. He wanted to marry this man, ask him to to trust him with his heart and life and he couldn't even bear to give him the slightest hint about his past. It was to protect him, of course, but Harold couldn't help feeling he was holding out on his lover. And surely John deserved better than a man that kept secrets.

They washed up put the dishes up to dry before making their way to the bedroom. John was always so gentle with Harold after a long day. He knew his lover might be stiff and even in pain he refused to share. He opened Harold's shirt one button at a time and kissed him as he went, Harold's temple, his cheek, his jaw, down to the side of his neck. He kissed Harold's collar before speaking. "What's wrong, Harold?" He asked softly, still working the next button, tugging his shirt from the waistband of his pants, "You're thinking about something. And it's bothering you." John leaned down and kissed Harold's chest, just over his heart. 

"It's nothing," Harold said, just as quietly, before he realized what he was doing. Keeping secrets. "Wait, John-" 

John stopped. He didn't look frightened for worried, any more than usual, but he stopped trying to undress Harold and refocused on his words. "What is it?" He asked, attentive in all things. Bless him. 

Harold took John's hands in his own and took a slow breath. He could do this, he could. "I've been meaning to tell you for some time now, John," He began softly, lacing their fingers together, "I- I would-" He sighed, looking up at John, "I would go to my knees and ask you, could I bend right now, but I want to marry you, John Reese. I know that's not your real name as you know Harold Finch is not mine, but I want to ask you to spend the rest of your life with me." Harold looks aside. "John Reese, could you find it in your heart to love an lying old cripple like me?" 

The silence only lasts half a heart beat. "Yes." John breathes, blinking rapidly as to though to be sure he's awake, "I will, Harold. I'll marry you in a moment if you'd have me." He gathers Harold in his arms and it's everything he dreamed of, swept up into John's hungry kisses and his breathless words. "Yes, Harold." He sighs, "There's no one else I'd rather have. Not anyone." 

He doesn't mean to cry, he doesn't, but suddenly their kiss is salt-sweet and John leans back to brush his tears away. "Harold, I-" John stops, lips parted and when he leans in, Harold is stunned. "My name." He whispers, and his hands are trembling against Harold's back, "I give you this freely, though I know you've seen it. I want you to have all of me, want to give you all of me." John curled into the shorter man and tucked his forehead against Harold's throat. "I want you, Harold." He breathed there, his pulse flickering wildly in his own throat. "I love you." 

Harold shudders and clutches to his lover. He leans in, trembling as he parts his lips. The word stick in his throat. He can't. He wants to. He wants to speak the word with all of his heart but... He treasures John's safety above all things. "I can't tell you my name." Harold sobbed as he leaned away, tears wetting his cheeks as he buried his face in John's shoulder. "I don't want to hide." He pleaded, "Not from you, John. Not from you. But I- I c- can't-"

"You don't need to." John soothed him, petting his hair as Harold shook in his arms, "I don't need your name, Harold, my sweet little bird." He turned Harold's chin up gently to kiss his trembling lips. "I want you. Not your name. Not your money. Nothing except you, my precious bird." 

Harold kisses him back, reaching to cup his head and hold him close. "You deserve better than a man like me," He breathes. 

"We can argue what we deserve all you want," John told him, resting his forehead against Harold's, "But you're what I want and that's not up for debate." He grinned, drunk on Harold's admission. "And I'm not going to let you talk me down." 

Harold smiled up at him, watery eyed and pink in the face. "I- Oh John." He tucks himself back against John's body and holds him close. "I love you." He says softly, "I love you, my John Reese."


End file.
